97 Mentality

Yo! It’s the burial ground sound, Dunn!
It’s real out here
Staten Island puttin chills in y’all niggas
Forever in it. yo
My devastating hot '97 mentality
Keep me on point for my four-digit salary
Heavyweight lyric never lost one calorie
I’m soon to be seen on the TV screen
Gambino Cappaccino to the Afro Sheen
Stay black, where I’m at, high road to rap council
Splash love to Wu in a orderly tonsil
Never limit to the diction, cause chaos to mixin
Brutalize a sound check, ripple through the intermission
Rap’s under siege, held tight like a squeeze
Forced in the world 'Donna nuclear freeze
Doing damage to the wannabe Flip Mode and Def Squad
Ruckus a whirlpool in the rap entourage
If you dare to test thirty-six, chambers of strangers
Not word of mouth, or song, real wigs might peel
Livin large and in charge branch out Bon Voyage
Twenty-four diamond government named God
Alias Daryl Hill bring thugs back to kill
Circle around my son, Daryl Jr. never eatin lard
Auntie Dauntie sixteen holdin me down
AIDS of rap music may be contagious to sound
Verbal the slang pushed back to create pronoun
Method forcin J-Love to Bring the Pain from underground
Realizin food for thought is self-compromising
Shaolin cut the crack into a triple-O sizin
Blue do what he do to keep that currency risin
Hopin I catch a deal so we can catch a four-wheel
Instead of catchin bodies, niggas not keepin it real
I dirt bomb niggas that steal cake from stores
That’s my type of niggas I be wanting on my tours
Can’t help it, my styles stay fat like Roseanne
Ruckus in the square I stay rough like the Clan
Panther on my arm, pen and pad in my hand
Punk motherfuckers better beware of the Shaolin
Defy interactive project Children of the Corn
Gats on my man keep em bustin till ya gone
Style so ancient it sparks just like the unicorn
Donna come through everyday my uniform
Changes and switches, I came to make ladies out of bitches
Crackhead niggas get stitches
So what up with that kid, danger when I attack, kid
Watch how the slang hits you just like a bat, kid
Form another pyramid, look how we slid
All over Park Hill, Stapleton politic
On a twenty dollar bill all in it together
You can’t fuck with the stormy weather, yaknahmean?
To the year Born God all the Gods strike hard
Fast from the swine hold down your boulevard
Father-U the C-Cipher, start the revolution
Middle finger in the air, for slang prostitution